Sunset
by cautiousAlbatross
Summary: John wants a perfect first date. The weather has other ideas.


Your name is John Egbert, and you're determined to make your first date with Dave Strider absolutely perfect.

You've prepared a picnic lunch, with a little help from your dad, and packed it up in a genuine wicker hamper, with a red checked tablecloth and everything. Dave arrives at eleven, and together, you carry the hamper out and start walking into the woods.

"Please tell me the wicker hamper is ironic," he says as you walk down the driveway.

"It's a little ironic," you reply, resolutely unembarrassed.

"If you've got a red checked tablecloth I might have to end this now."

"Well, that one is ironic," you admit, shifting your grip.

"You've got plates and shit, right?"

"I've got everything," you say, nodding, with a smug smile, "This is going to be the cheesiest picnic date ever."

You pause for a moment, then add "And the most ironic."

He nods, and you giggle.

"Okay, how far are we taking this thing?" he asks.

You're only about twenty metres away from the house, and the picnic hamper is already feeling stupidly heavy and awkward.

"Um," you say, shifting the hamper again, "Not very far. Maybe, uh, a mile?"

He swears loudly.

"Sorry," you say, sheepishly, "I didn't really think this part through."

He just sighs.

By the time you reach a suitable clearing in the woods you were heading for, after walking about three miles, you're both hot, tired and hungry. You drop the hamper under a tree and collapse on the grass, closing your eyes and never wanting to walk another step.

"Food," Dave says, dropping down next to you.

You grunt, then sit up, reluctantly. You drag yourself over to the hamper, too tired to stand up, and open it. You're just about to start taking things out when a large drop of water lands on your head. Followed by another. And another. You swear and close the hamper again, then retreat under the trees as rain starts pouring out of the sky. Dave joins you, his hair already soaking wet, and flips the bird at the clouds.

"Fucking rain," he says, attempting to find shelter under the trees and failing.

You nod in agreement. The trees don't really stop the rain, they just concentrate it into streams and occasionally scatter droplets over you.

"I suppose we'd better look for shelter," you say, picking up your handle of the hamper and feeling cold and wet and miserable.

"Where, though?" he asks, taking his handle, "It's, like, three miles to your house."

You just shrug and start walking, then stop when you spot a large tree, hollowed out by a lightning strike and mostly sheltered.

"How about in there?" you say, pointing at it.

Dave shrugs, and you go over to investigate. The tree is full of cigarette butts, empty bottles and other things you don't particularly want to get a closer look at, but at least it's mostly dry. You drag the hamper into it, and sit on the lid. He sits next to you, and you rest your head on his shoulder, sighing.

"Sorry," you say.

He laughs.

"You can't take credit for the rain, John."

"I can try," you say, grinning.

You hear a rumble, and for a moment, you think it's thunder – then you realise it's your stomach. Dave laughs.

"Ugh, it's one o' clock," you say, checking your watch, "I'm starving. Let's eat the food."

"But what about your painfully cheesy picnic?" Dave teases.

"Screw the picnic, I'm cold and wet and hungry."

You shoo Dave off of the hamper and make him stand in the rain whilst you retrieve the sandwiches.

"Okay, we've got cucumber, tuna, cheese, ham, and, um, I think that's prawn," you say, putting the sandwiches on top of the hamper and carefully sitting back down.

Dave takes a probably-prawn one and sits back down. You take two ham sandwiches and eat them together in two bites. Claiming the rest of the ham, you work your way slowly through them, then start on the cheese. Dave finishes off the rest of the prawn, and most of the tuna. Neither of you touch the cucumber.

"Hey, dude, got any drinks?" Dave asks, swallowing a mouthful of tuna sandwich.

"Um, yeah," you say, putting down a half eaten sandwich.

You manage to retrieve a bottle of lemonade and two wine glasses, and only knock two sandwiches onto the floor in the process. You also pull out a large bag of fancy chips.

"See, this is practically a picnic," Dave says, taking an elegant sip of his lemonade and somehow managing to crunch a chip in a similarly elegant manner.

"It's not exactly going how I planned," you say, sighing.

"Plans are overrated."

You just nod. You sit together in silence, working your way through the bag of chips and watching the rain.

By five pm, you've worked your way through all the food in the hamper, and the rain is beginning to stop. You start to work your way from tree to tree, moving whenever the rain slacks off, attempting to shelter whenever it gets heavier.

"Well," you say at one point, "At least the hamper is lighter now."

Dave just nods. Somehow, you don't think it's much comfort.

By seven pm, you've reached the edge of the woods, and the rain has almost completely stopped, with only the occasional shower still coming down.

"Sorry," you say, looking down towards your house at the half a mile you still have to walk, "This was kind of a rubbish date, wasn't it?"

"Hate to break it to you, dude, but you're not a rain god," he says, wiping rainwater off of his sunglasses, "This wasn't your fault."

"It was still my idea," you say, slumping down against a tree, "And it was still awful."

"Hey," he says, sitting next to you and wrapping an arm around your shoulders, "It wasn't all that bad."

You sigh, leaning into him and resting your head on his shoulder. You're cold and wet and tired and miserable, but at least you've got Dave.

You fall asleep like that, and don't wake up till the sun is starting to go down.

"Oh, damn," you say, as you realise what happened, "I'm sorry."

"It's cool," Dave says, shrugging, "Hey, look. Sunset."

Sure enough, the sun is setting, and you've got a great view from up here. The sky is painted with streaks of yellow and orange and pink and purple, and you think it looks like an oil painting.

"It's beautiful," you whisper.

"See?" says Dave, smiling down at you, "Not such a bad day after all."

"Yeah," you agree, smiling back at him.

You stay there until the sun has disappeared. The rain might have ruined your picnic, but the clouds make sunset all the prettier.


End file.
